


The Airing of Grievances

by MaeveBran



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Gen, POV Animal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:54:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5463998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaeveBran/pseuds/MaeveBran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clyde has a few things to say about his living conditions. If only the humans could read his writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Airing of Grievances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Greens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greens/gifts).



Clyde heaved a sigh, only no one saw it because his shell hid it. The man, whom was called by the ridiculous name of Sherlock, was attaching a paint brush to the shell. As far as the exploits of this human went, a paint brush, paint, and the blank paper was pretty tame. At least Clyde would be able to write out his grievances. It was particularly apropos because it was the season of Festivus, according to the television show that Clyde had once seen, while munching on one his allotted lettuce leaves while sitting on the man's lap, was celebrated with the airing of grievances. Finally the paint brush was attached to the man's satisfaction and Clyde could begin.

_Here do I, Clyde Testudine, set my hand to air my grievances, of which there are many._ The tortoise walked across the blank space. Where to start? Chronologically? He couldn't keep track of the days or the order of the indignities. Alphabetically? He was a tortoise. What did he know of alphabetical order? He wrote in Tortoise. Severity? How do you rate those from bad to worse? No, it would have to be in the order he thought of them. 

_Among the many indignities I have suffered is the unvaried diet. I get lettuce and lettuce only._ Clyde might be a tortoise but really could this Sherlock or the black haired woman he called “Watson” not come up with more variety? Would the occasional bunch of kale, Swiss chard, or arugula kill them? Speaking of feeding indignities – _I have also been forced to run mazes and press a button to get my food. Sometimes this button led to electric shocks. A tortoise should be able to eat in peace, even if it is only lettuce._

Clyde tried to continue his thought but he noticed the paint brush was out paint. He stood in one spot until Sherlock noticed and then changed the color of paint so Clyde could continue with his grievances. It was another indignity to add to the list. But first, he needed to finish the thought about electric shocks.

The problem with the electric shocks was that the man had acquired a new companion whom he referred to as “Kitty” and in an attempt to force Clyde to bond with her the maze and shock 'therapy' were added to the morning repast. Remembering Kitty brought up another good point. _I have been removed from my home and subjected to repeated movings. Sherlock and Watson decided, without my consent, to share custody of me. I may be a tortoise but I am not property. I'm an independent creature who chooses where to live. But I digress. In this shared 'custody' arrangement, the human Kitty shuttled me back and forth between the residences. She often did this on the New York City subway system. The horrors of being shuffled in a box amongst the vast crowds and jostling are too numerous to list at the moment. Suffice it to say, if one has to move a tortoise, repeatedly, then one should at least spring for a taxi._

Once again the brush had run out of paint. He really did have a lot of grievances to air and the human was taking his sweet time in refilling the brush. This was a tedious method of communication but it would be worth it if it resulted in improved living conditions (particularly in addition of kale to his diet).

Clyde actually liked living with Watson. He had a steady supply of food (even if it was just lettuce) without having to fulfill tasks to get it. She also had a lovely place for him in the center of her apartment so that he could see what was going on. It was light in her apartment rather than dark like Sherlock's brownstone. He was happy to have his residence settled when Watson moved back into the brownstone though it meant an increased opportunity for Sherlock to commit even more indignities.

Clyde thought back over his time with this Sherlock human. Near as he could determine, Clyde had lived with this human for the better part of three years. In that time, he had helped solve a case or two. That made him feel important that he was indeed contributing to the greater good. But also in that time the list of indignities added up. Clyde had to wait twice more for more paint to finish the letter.

Clyde finally finished. He ended the letter with _Here do I set my foot and tail. Done this twenty-third day of December in the third year of my captivity. Clyde Testudine._ He left two blobs and deliberately walked through one and dragged his tail through the other.

Clyde stood to the side and looked up to Sherlock. Surely now, his complaints would be heard or read. He smiled at the thought of some nice tasty Kale.

“Looks like he's finished,” Joan Watson observed. “He even signed it,”

Yes, Clyde thought. She got it. He had always liked Watson.

“What does it mean, though?” Watson added.

Clyde hung his head. He had counted on Watson. Now he was going to be stuck with lettuce.

“It doesn't mean anything,” Sherlock explained. “It is just the tracing of Clyde's meandering around the floor.”

Clyde slunk off in the direction of his cage. He'd try again some other time. It was too important to him to give up so soon. He was probably here for the rest of his life and things had to get better. If he had to stay the lettuce needed supplementing. Someday he'd get his message through to the humans and he'd be in deep kale and chard. That would be a happy day indeed. Until that day, he needed to eat and at least the lettuce he received was of good quality and not that iceberg stuff. Speaking of lettuce it was time for his evening leaf. He crawled to the spot where he was fed and he bumped into the bell to signal that he wanted food. Sure enough, Watson came and feed him. He started in on the leaf and sighed again. Life was the going to go on no matter what he did.


End file.
